


If I keep on moving (I’ll never lose sight of it)

by AToZRainToBe



Series: Treating my memory of you like a fire (let it burn out) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate ending to the Manburg Festival, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insane Wilbur Soot, Things go BOOM, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, Toby Smith | Tubbo Angst, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27259936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AToZRainToBe/pseuds/AToZRainToBe
Summary: Three minutes ago, all of L’manburg blew up. Thirty seconds ago, he was pulled- just barely- out of the danger zone for that same explosion.The ringing gets louder, louder, louder. Where is he? Where’s Tommy? What happened?Or; Wilbur blew everything up. Tubbo’s left in the rubble of the aftermath, shouting his best friends name, begging the world to let him know that Tommy survived.(Title from “since I saw Vienna” by Wilbur)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Eret & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot
Series: Treating my memory of you like a fire (let it burn out) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017853
Comments: 63
Kudos: 873





	1. Tubbo (i hope you found a place to sleep, I know you’re bound to think of me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title from cavetown’s ‘smoke signals’

Three minutes ago, all of L’manburg blew up. Thirty seconds ago, he was pulled- just barely- out of the danger zone for that same explosion. Now, rubble and wreckage are all he can see in the dust and fire of the TNT, and a loud ringing in his ears is the only evidence he has that an explosion ever happened. 

The ringing gets louder, louder, louder. Where is he? Where’s Tommy? What happened? He reaches his hands to his ear, curling in on himself, vision blurred and swaying as he tries to steady his breathing. He needs to be the bigger person here, needs to find Tommy, needs to see if there are survivors- 

His skin burns with a thousand small explosions as he hiccups, tears threatening to spill from his already blurred eyes. The ashes and remains of Manburg are nothing but background as he tries, desperately, to pull himself together. He unfolds one leg, then the other, using the tree he hadn’t realised he’d been leaning on as support. 

He takes a breath in, and it comes shaking out of him. 

His vision isn’t great- something he’ll put aside for later, once he can find other people- but he manages to get two steps in before he stumbles. The fear that strikes through him leaves him with scrunched eyes and panicked breathing, but a fall never comes.

He straightens his back, and toughens on. It’s what Tommy would do, and Tommy’s never had a bad idea in a moment of need. Not when Tubbo needs him. 

Oh god, Tubbo thinks as he slowly begins to walk again, What if Tommy’s dead? 

He can’t think like that. But the thought creeps it’s ugly hands around his neck and suffocates him with different ideas, different scenarios. Tommy, burnt to pieces after being blown up, never to wake up again. Tommy, killed by Wilbur for trying to stop him, blood and guts on the cobblestone floor of pogtopia. Tommy, dead and cold and alone, without Tubbo. 

Logically, he reminds himself Wilbur wouldn’t kill his little brother like that. He reminds himself that Techno would stop him if he ever tried to. But some deep, twisted part of him, the part that forces him to speed up his walking- it tells him that Wilbur isn’t who he used to be, that Wilbur’s motives have changed, that Wilbur would do it with a smile if it meant he could blow up Manberg. 

So he rushes, using his limited sight to get to the edge of the ashes and rubble. “Tommy!” He yells out, hoping for response, because that’s all that matters. “Tommy!” The word is like a mantra he repeats as he pushes his way into the devastation. The only word to leave his lips; Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.

He can hardly hear himself anymore as his head splits with pain, the ringing in his ears covering every noise but his own muffled voice and unsteady breathing. He tries his best to look around for someone, anyone he can get to and be safe with, but all he finds is broken wood and cracked marble. All he finds is shattered lamps and stones. 

“Tommy, please-“ He chokes on the words. What if he’s calling for a dead man? For a dead friend? They’re only sixteen. They’re only sixteen- they’re only sixteen, and Tommy might never be older. “Tommy, Tommy please, please be alive.” 

His knees feel weak beneath him, his breathing twice as uneven now that he thinks about how quiet it is, how alone he sounds. How alone he is. Did anyone even survive? 

He can’t. He can’t think like that. Someone, anyone must have survived. Someone will come for him. Someone will. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he blinks his eyes until they’re a little more focused and he can take another step. 

He can’t afford to think of his shaky knees or the ringing in his ears that makes his voice sound distant and underwater. He can’t afford to notice the blurriness in his eyes or the pain in his head. He has to push on, so he takes another step, and yells Tommy’s name. 

His foot slips on his next step, sending him stumbling back and the debris he had been standing on sliding down the hill. It bounces against the ground without a sound as it hits shattered glass and ash, coming to rest in the middle of a dip between two hills. 

An explosion rings out through the land. It’s smaller than the previous, but just as large and clearly from exactly the same TNT. The air is oddly silent as Tubbo holds his breath. 

His ears ring a little louder as the ash clears, the disrupted rubble settling. Blinking once, then twice, he turns on his heel. His blurry eyes strain to see the floor ahead, turning away from the recent explosion to once again call his best friend’s name with desperation. 

His throat is beginning to feel coarse with all the yelling when he sees something shifting in the fog of ash. His mind prays it isn’t a mob, his heart prays it’s Tommy. 

It’s neither.

Eret appears from the fog with Nikki by his side. Tubbo’s feet begin to move without his mind thinking twice. He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth; “Do you know where Tommy is?” 

The looks on their faces is enough. 

It’s a few seconds later that he’s grabbing onto Eret’s shirt, his face hot with tears as he desperately hugs onto his friend. He won’t let himself think about Tommy being dead, but it’s looking more and more likely. He cries a little harder when his head pounds with pain. 

Eret’s a familiar comfort around him, holding him and talking. Tubbo focuses on the warmth, on the air in his lungs, and the fact they still have to get to safety. They don’t know if all the bombs went off, he realises, any part of this place could go off a little late and it might- 

Eret takes his hand. 

“Tubbo, it’s alright, we’ll find him,” He says. “Are you alright? You didn’t get badly hurt, did you?”

The man’s glasses are cracked, infinitely white eyes looking him over with concern. Tubbo shakes his head, the breath that leaves Eret’s lips having no sound to it. “I’m fine,” Tubbo confirms for the both of them. 

“Are you sure? Your knee is bleeding.” 

“It’s just a graze.”

Eret stands back, nodding, their hands still intertwined. The warmth of it reminds Tubbo of the ash around them, so he tentatively kicks at some of the smaller stones. “How- How did you guys find me?”

Nikki glances towards Eret, coming to stand beside the two of them. “We heard you calling for Tommy.” She gives him a gentle smile, face scraped and hair a mess. “We’re looking for other survivors.”

“C’mon,” Eret says as he tugs Tubbo along. “Maybe we’ll find Tommy. Who knows!” 

Tubbo lets himself be guided, focusing on the rocks beneath him. His vision is a little less cloudy now, the edges of each individual rock almost visible amongst the mess of whites, grays and blacks. Nikki stays with them on Eret’s opposite side, the two of them keeping up a light conversation about everything but the mess around them. 

For the first time that day, Tubbo lets himself think about the weakness in his legs and the pounding in his head. If they find a place to settle, he’ll definitely need to find a stream for water, and they’ll have to salvage some food. In his head he knows if Tommy were here they’d already be off fighting with stone tools and a makeshift house. If it were him and Tommy, they’d be set for the night, because Tommy would know what to do. 

Tommy, who might be dead. 

He swallows. That ugly fear curls itself up his back and around his throat, causing the tears that well up in his eyes. With his free hand he scrubs at his eyes, and with his other, Eret leads him around a crater. The ringing in his ears is quieter, but not gone, noticeable over the conversation Eret and Nikki are having. Tubbo wishes it were quiet. 

His legs are sore and his head feels painfully stuffed with cotton by the time that Eret and Nikki stop walking. It takes every sore, aching bone in his body to stay upright beside Eret as his vision settles on something moving in the fog. Without the noise of footsteps, he can’t tell what it is- Eret steps forward to put himself between Tubbo and the figure, but all Tubbo can think about is how he doesn’t hear Eret’s footsteps. 

“Hello?” A voice sounds out- Bad, he realises. “Eret? Nikki?” 

He doesn’t hear Bad emerge from the slowly clearing dust around them. It’s shocking, but then again, Tubbo reminds himself he just went through an explosion. His hearing is probably readjusting. It’s nothing serious, nothing serious at all. They’ll find Tommy and everything will be fine, because Tommy won’t be dead, and Tommy will be with him, and they’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. 

It’s almost too long before Tubbo emerges from behind Eret, waving. Studying Bad’s appearance, his mind wanders from the topics of before. His hood is down, revealing inky black skin that’s covered in some places by ash and in others by scabs. When he smiles, Tubbo notices how tired Bad looks- it’s almost exactly how Tubbo feels. 

Tired. 

“Bad,” Eret nods. “Have you found anyone else?”

“Yes! I have,” Bad smiles. “Plenty of people. We’ve set up camp just a little further that way.” Bad points towards the way he came. “I can take you, if you’d like?”

“Yes, yes please,” Nikki responds. “Who have you found?”

“Well, It’s me and Hbomb, and we got Skeppy and Antfrost there, even if they’re a little banged up. Purpled is out here searching with me but they’ll be back later tonight,” Bad counts on his fingers as he lists everyone off. “Hbomb’s at the camp building shelters, since he got a nasty cough and I don’t want him breathing in any more smoke.”

The ringing in Tubbo’s ear clears a little as Bad lists people off. “Have- do you know where Tommy is?” 

Bad pauses, shaking his head.

“Oh.” Tubbo grips Eret’s hand a little tighter. “Oh. Okay.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find him,” Eret gives him a soft smile. “Bad, can we- can you show us where the camp is?”

Without another word, Bad nods and turns on his heel. It’s quiet as they walk. No one dares to say a thing, with Tubbo feeling his eyes scan over everything, searching for anything that looks vaguely like Tommy’s armour or his clothes.

Wilbur said it would happen. He didn’t say it would happen like this. 

He expected one, maybe two bombs. There were hundreds.

But even hundreds and hundreds of bombs aren’t enough to destroy the entire world. Eventually, they walk beyond where the fires have spread and beyond the borders of where Manberg stood. They cross the bridge over the river and walk past the park, finally leaving behind the earth scored by craters and entering land simply dusted with the ash scattered by the wind. Even that fades with distance, though. The monochrome of ash and burnt remains slowly give way to the green vibrancy of fresh grass and swaying trees. Eret holds Tubbo’s hand a little closer as Bad weaves them southward through the flower-filled forest, a stench of dried blood growing stronger.

Soon, they come to a small clearing hardly more than a chunk or two away from the explosion site. “I found more friends!” Bad says, as if they’re just some friends coming to visit rather than survivors coming to a refugee camp. Bad says something else (something Tubbo doesn’t quite hear) as he moves towards Antfrost and Hbomb. 

After a moment, Bad gestures to the logs and Eret tugs Tubbo over and they all sit around a quaint little fire pit. Tubbo feels infinitely grateful for a place to sit down. The tiny camp has a small fire to cook food, a few haphazard tents made to house (from what Tubbo gathers) the ones that are the worst off. Skeppy is in there right now, being watched by Antfrost, who’s got both arms splinted and wrapped up in slings made of torn cloth. 

(Tubbo doesn’t think twice about not hearing the crack of the fire, or the oddly shaped thing beneath a tarp near the firewood, or the way Bad keeps a stone sword at his side and sits at the front of the tent like a watchdog.)

“Further down south, there’s a river that flows into the Manburg one. We made sure to set up camp upstream so that the water wouldn’t be contaminated - there’s actually some drinking water we gathered earlier in that chest. It actually tastes pretty darn good, I’ve gotta say,” Bad motions to a double chest pushed towards the back of the white tent. “Hey, guys, y’know what? You should all stay here for the night. Tomorrow we can figure out ways for you to help out around camp while Purpled and I head back out.”

Eret nods. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Anyone who survived,” Bad states. Tubbo shivers at the sight of the man who’s usually filled with smiles and innocence leaning against a log with a stone sword in his hands, face dead serious. “We want to get as many people back together before we start again. Heal up, tally the deaths, figure out what to do from there.” 

Clearly, Tubbo wasn’t the only one surprised by the shift in attitude from their friend. Eret, who came to sit by him at some point throughout the conversation, looks just as stunned when Tubbo turns to him. “Uh…” Eret hesitates. “What’s the current count?”

“One confirmed,” Bad says, motioning towards the oddly-placed tarp. The tarp that Tubbo belatedly realizes is covering a body. “That’s Punz. May he rest in peace.”

Eret pales even further. “Right, okay. That… that sounds like a sensible plan, then.”

They cook steak around the fire once Purpled returns. Even if the ash occasionally drifts towards them with the wind, none of them mention anything about it. Hbomb brushes it away with half a glance, Tubbo wonders if Tommy’s seeing the same ash. 

He’s got to be. They’re both alive. 

-

Eret’s wrist is broken. Nikki has a gash that’s as wide as it is deep located on her right leg. They don’t know where Tommy is, they don’t know where Techno is, and Wilbur is assumed dead. 

Tubbo lists the supposed dead in his mind as he trudges through rubble, searching for a sign of a survivor; Wilbur, Techno, Schlatt, Fundy, Callahan, Sam, and Quackity. But not Tommy- even though everyone keeps trying to talk to him about the loss of a loved one, Tubbo knows Tommy wouldn’t leave him like this. 

Right? 

It’s been about two days since the explosion. Yesterday, Purpled stumbled into the Dream Team and brought them back to camp to recuperate. Dream, unfortunately, has been unconscious since the explosion, according to Sapnap and George. Likewise, Bad found an unconscious Quackity and carried him the whole way back. The air has cleared of ashy fog, the rubble settled and generally pretty stable. In the distance, Tommy’s cobblestone Disruption Tower stands by what many assume is sheer will alone mixed with the smallest amount of architectural foundation. It’s a good landmark to navigate around in addition to the scattered and dull remains of buildings and the river that’s slightly clearer than before.

Tubbo hasn’t exactly seen any of these places so much as heard about them. Yesterday, Bad had him and Eret stay away from the remains of Manberg. Eret was sent off to his castle to bring back potions and supplies, and Tubbo was put to work setting up a farm, seeing as he was one of the better off in terms of physical health. It was nice, steady work, similar to what he’d done in Pogtopia - except they still had to do it all by hand - and it truly did help get his mind off of things.

(If he didn’t hear the hoe hit into the ground or the buzzing of the bees that lived nearby, he didn’t notice. It was better that way.) 

Now, he’s making his way through the rubble and back to the camp as the sun begins its descent over the hills in the far distance. It’s the kind of sunset he might have watched with Tommy; one that’s flaring with soft but bright colours: reds and pinks, calm and serene. They’d probably listen to Mellohi or Chirp while they watched it. 

He kicks a pebble that lays in his path as he wonders if they’ll ever get to do that again. Even if he promises himself they will, it makes tears bubble in his eyes to think that he might be watching the sunsets alone from now on. The stone rolls, near against a boulder, drawing his attention to what it’s landed next to. A red cloth. 

Tubbo kneels down to brush soot and ash from the obviously unfamiliar colour, pulling it up to find it’s hardly bigger than the tip of his pinky finger. He has no clue what part of an outfit this might be, some part of him tells him it’s Tommy’s while other parts argue it might be Techno’s. 

Either way, he shoves it in his pocket and continues the short walk over the river and back to camp.

It’s quieter than usual when he weaves through trees. It’s been quieter than usual a lot more often recently. He shrugs the thought off as he comes to the camp, Eret and Nikki resting around the fire as Hbomb sets up a grey tent near the white one. 

Leaning against a log, near the under-construction grey tent, is Fundy. 

His fox mask is laid to the side, revealing a large cut on his cheek and blood smeared over the majority of his left half. His usually light brown hair is stained with darker patches and blood wiped along his brow. To his left, Nikki is bandaging his arm, and his clip-on tail is discarded to the right with his mask. 

He blinks lazily at Tubbo, eyes hardly remaining open. His suit is torn, revealing grazes or bruises on his pale skin, and covered in debris where it isn’t. A smile tries to grace his lips, but it falls halfway. 

Bad walks past him, a bucket of water in his hands, as he wets a cloth and begins to dab it on the remaining injuries. “We found him underneath the remains of a building, away from the podium.”

Tubbo nods. “I’ll get him some carrots,” He says. “Or stew? Can he eat solids?”

“He can eat,” Nikki says. “He can talk, too. Poor thing, just tired- I think his rib might be broken on one side- but he’ll get better.”

Those are the words they say every time some new injury comes along; ‘It will get better’. Reminding themselves it will heal, as if it has any obligation too. Still, Tubbo turns and heads towards the farm with nothing but determination in his step. 

He returns with half a stack of carrots and some potatoes. Bad helps him clean them using the designated washing bucket and then they lay the potatoes out to roast over the open fire. It’s late-evening at best as they munch on carrots around the fire. 

“We should search the far bits, towards the embassy, next,” Bad suggests. “The ash is beginning to settle and we want to solidify a death count as soon as possible so we can move on to rebuilding.”

Eret shoots a pitiful glance towards Tubbo, shuffling over. “Right,” He says. “And we should hold funerals. For the dead.”

Tubbo feels sick at the thought of attending Tommy’s funeral. 

“Maybe even a graveyard, a memorial,” Eret adds on, no clue to the younger’s state. Tubbo’s stomach is doing flips as he breathes. “They died for a-“

“Tommy isn’t dead,” He says, in the quietest voice he can manage. “Tommy isn’t dead.”

Eret’s looking at him with that sad, sad look again. “I know, Tubbo,” His friend finally says, putting a hand on his shoulder. His eyes are droopy, filled with this kind of inner sadness, lips unmoving. He doesn’t believe Tubbo. “I know. We’ll find him. But for the rest, we should have funerals.”

Tubbo can’t help the tear that slips from his eyes. There’s a suffocating weight in his chest at the idea of him spending his life well and truly alone, without Tommy. No more sunset and disks, no more pretending to argue, no more whispering to each other to make jokes about people they’re around. No more laying in open fields and watching the stars, no more being sixteen.

No more each other. 

He scrubs his tears away, the weight on his chest hardly easing. Eret’s hand is warm and solid on his shoulder, but it’s nothing like Tommy, who’d laugh and make weird jokes just to see Tubbo smile. It’s nothing like his best friend. 

He bites into his carrot, chewing to forget about the topic. Eret pats his back, turning to Nikki, Bad, Hbomb and Antfrost. They’re all so adult. Tubbo wishes Tommy were here to laugh at how serious they’re being.

Instead, he has nothing but a carrot and a fire.

Nikki mashes up some potato for Fundy and Tubbo takes to sitting around him when no one else can be on guard. It’s not quite like being able to be his age, but Fundy is definitely younger than the rest and so it’s as nice as it can get.

When the fox opens his eyes later that night while everyone is sleeping, Tubbo offers him some more potato, and they sit in silence. Until Fundy lets out a pained sigh and shifts so he can see Tubbo. “Do you think I made a mistake by being on Schlatt’s side?”

He hadn’t thought of Schlatt in days. “I was on Schlatt’s side, too,” He says. “Was it a mistake for me?”

“You were spying for them,” Fundy retaliates. “For Pogtopia. I was just siding with them and trying to get into Schlatt’s favour. Do you think- ‘cause I think maybe I made Wilbur do all this. Maybe it was my betrayal that made him go crazy.”

Tubbo thinks for a moment, plucking at some grass he pulled up. “Wilbur was scared,” He concludes. “You were too- we all were. We did what we had to, right? Maybe that makes us bad. Maybe there is no bad, only survival.”

He can’t hear anything but his own breathing. Fundy shifts again, staring into the fire, and Tubbo moves to put another log on. When the night shifts ever-so-slightly closer to midnight, Fundy yawns and says; “That’s really deep.”

It’s quiet again as Fundy leans against his shoulder, a warm and steady presence. Tubbo carefully leans back against Fundy, and they stay like that until morning comes.

-

The smoke twirls as it rises, before settling into the open air and leaving no trace. The fire itself is a steady mix of red, orange and yellow as it releases the plumes of grey smoke into the air. Embers flicker off, landing on dry ground but never sparking.

Tubbo can’t hear the fire crackle, his ears feel stuffed with cotton, and all he can make out is the conversation between the Dream Team on the opposite side of the fire. They’re playing some sort of game, with Sapnap and George keeping their motions excessively gentle, like if they touch Dream in the wrong place he might break to a million pieces.

There’s a loud ‘stop moving!’ from the white tent as Bad finishes re-bandaging Skeppy. Nikki and Eret are sat to the side chewing on some of the limited supply of berries they’d found one afternoon of scouting. The memory warms Tubbo’s heart, leaving him with a smile on his lips. 

Sunlight covers every inch of the campsite in warmth, the fire acting as nothing but a decoration. It’s not hot enough to swim, but it’s warm enough not to have a fire going if they get bored of putting logs on. Tubbo breathes deeply, body aching a little less. 

It’s been four days. They’re taking today to rest. 

Their farm is growing quiet well, with their potato harvest growing particularly handsomely. And while Tubbo never sees anyone tend to it, he assumes someone in the camp is taking after Techno’s talents. Maybe in memory, maybe for the sake of it. 

Hbomb, Purpled and Antfrost volunteered to go raid Eret’s castle and any other buildings they can find for supplies. With their most recent addition to the medical bay (Callahan, who was found alone and comatose yesterday morning), they’ll be needing all the potions that they can physically carry back. The small party left early this morning with nothing but a wave and a smile. 

A soft breeze drifts through and makes no noise as it ruffles leaves and whips the fire. It’s the kind of day that L’manburg’s citizens might’ve spent playing tag in the fields or having a picnic. It’s the kind of day where they’d all be together, maybe playing Deal or No Deal, a day where they’d all be smiling. 

George grumbles something about Sapnap and Dream cheating as they reset whatever it is they’re playing. Fundy lays asleep in the warmth of the grey tent, napping after his night watch shift earlier this morning. It’s barely afternoon, the sun is nowhere near the middle of the sky, and it feels so undeniably perfect.

The only thing that would make it better is Tommy, Tubbo thinks, before pushing it to the side and reaching for some of the berries Eret and Nikki have laid out. They burst in his mouth, popping to become a mixture of sweet, fresh, and hints of sour. He can taste the water they used to wash it off. 

All of that peace is gone when Wilbur stumbles through a bush. 

A breeze whips the fire again, leaves falling to the floor as silence befalls the group, the only noise being Wilbur’s stumbling feet. His eyes flicker over their faces but don’t register any of them. He breaks the silence with a croaky voice; “Do you know where my brothers are?”

Tubbo should feel angry. He’s separated from Tommy because of this man. Their home is in ruins because of Wilbur. They’re only like this because of Wilbur. He certainly should be as angry as George and Sapnap get, standing between him and Dream, or like Nikki, who rushes to grab his coat and scream; “Wilbur, how could you!?”

Their voices meld together in one big, loud storm. Yelling. George and Sapnap yell about how much damage he’s done. Dream yells at them to calm down. Nikki yells at him for betraying her, for betraying them, for burning down their home and not even feeling the slightest bit of remorse.

Wilbur blinks. “Do you know where Tommy is?” 

His chest aches at that question. He knows what it’s like, standing there and wondering if you’re alone. Wondering if you’re, somehow, the reason that you’re alone. It’s not all similar, he has to remind himself Wilbur blew up L’manburg, but he knows the loneliness. He doesn’t know the empty look in Wilbur’s eyes or the weakness in the man’s body, but he knows that question. 

His ears are ringing again. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t have it in him. Everyone is yelling, screaming, loud. Wilbur pushes past them, steadily, eyes focusing just barely on Tubbo. “You- you must- where is Tommy?” 

Tubbo can’t help the look that falls over his face. “No, no, no no no-“ Wilbur shakes, hands grabbing at his coat like he’s on fire. “No, no. No-“ Something in the man stops. “They’re not dead. Where are they?” The only sign he’s still a living, breathing human being is the broken emotion in his voice; “Have you seen them anywhere?”

“Wilbur,” He says. He tries his best to be gentle, but he can’t tell how loud he’s being, and it’s disorienting. “Wilbur, we haven’t found them-“ 

Wilbur’s back hits a log as his breathing falls apart into an uneven, broken pattern. Tubbo moves towards him, the man letting out a broken sob as his white knuckles grasp at his clothes. Tubbo doesn’t hear the quiet, breathy screams that leave Wilbur’s mouth. 

It’s like he’s burnt the man when Tubbo lays a hand on him and Wilbur flinches back, sobbing harder. Without any way to help, he stands up, trying to think of something useful. He could get water, Wilbur will need water, and- and food, too. 

Before he can fully process what he’s doing, he picks up some of the berries from where Eret and Nikki left them. “Wilbur,” He tries to be quiet again, but it’s difficult when he can’t hear himself speak. “Here, have some food, Wilbur, you need to eat.”

Wilbur unfurls gently, still hiccuping and sobbing, reaching a hand out to grab the berries. His legs criss cross into a comfortable position, cradling the berries in his hand as he sniffles. He puts some of the berries in his mouth, pausing with the last bundle. Tubbo watches as he crushes each berry, one by one, and watches the juice trickle over his hands. 

Wilbur’s breathing slowly evens out. His eyes blink, and he does nothing but hold his berry-blood soaked hands out towards the fire, watching. 

Tubbo notices the emptiness in his eyes again. He sits back down. 

-

The tent roof moves with the wind, Tubbo’s head a mix of static and quiet as he watches from his place on the ground. Next to him, Eret silently shifts to wrap the blanket further around his body. Tubbo sighs, feeling the noiseless breath wash over his face, turning onto his side. 

And then he turns again. 

And again. 

And again. 

The restless noise in his mind mixes with his own breathing as he sits up, swinging his legs over the bed. He can easily make out Eret’s body tangled in sheets next to him, lit slightly by the stars outside and the gaps in the tent. He smiles. 

On any other night, he’d curl into the bed with his friend and fall asleep in the comfort of that warmth. But his legs feel weak with the need to move, mind running a mile a minute with no thoughts at all. 

His feet feel heavy, but not enough to stop him, as he leaves the tent. His footsteps are noiseless, and so they must be quiet. Wilbur is sat with his head in his hands, unmoving and staring at the dying ember of the fire. 

Empty eyes shift to look at him as he sits down on the log, beside Wilbur. The smell of gunpowder still stains Wilbur’s hands and clothes. It stains everything, with bits of ash and charcoal on the uncleaned parts of his skin. Neither of them can get it off, as if it’s a taunting reminder of what lies just beyond the few trees. 

“Would you-“ Tubbo clears his throat. “Would you like to come for a walk with me?”

Wilbur blinks back at him, and then at the fire. In the silence of the night he hears a zombie groan in the far distance. “We can try and find Tommy and Techno,” He adds, knowing there’s no chance they’ll find anything but mobs. “If you’d like. While we walk.”

The fire dies out.

Wilbur stands up, only watching as Tubbo does the same. “Okay, okay- cool!” Tubbo says, doing his best to wrap his head around being quiet enough to speak and loud enough to be heard. “Cool, cool. Let’s- Let’s go.”

Bad, who had taken the early night watch shift, hands Tubbo his torch and lights another one for himself. He gives a gentle smile, something in his eyes saying be safe, please get back safe, but Bad’s lips remain sealed. 

The two of them weave through trees and bush as slowly as they can, never saying a word. Once they’re out of sight of the camp’s light, Tubbo feels himself exhale, turning his face towards the stars. Beside him, Wilbur pauses, looking the same way. 

Wilbur is safe. His scent, even tinged with tnt and ash, smells familiar. Like the war, like protection, like L’manburg. It’s easy to let his steps fall into time with Wilbur’s, easier than it had ever been with Schlatt. 

It almost hurts to think about how shaky his body had been, how tired he had felt. Wilbur is different. Schlatt would speed up as Tubbo caught up, until Tubbo was trailing behind. Wilbur, even broken, pauses when Tubbo struggles, making sure they’re in time. 

It makes him smile. 

When they turn back, the moon beginning to descend, Tubbo’s body aches with exhaustion. He feels his eyes shut as he stumbles into the tent and onto his bed, falling asleep without a second thought. 

They’re on their third walk, in the early morning of the sixth day. The night is calm but goosebumps litter Tubbo’s skin like stars in the sky. He’s shivering from the cold or from fear, he can’t tell, and he doesn’t bother trying to. 

Wilbur steps ahead of him, holding the torch with a white-knuckled grip. “Tubbo,” He turns to the boy next to him. “I thought Tommy would be smart enough to run. To be safe.”

“He wasn’t. I don’t know which way he ran. I don’t know where he is, or where Techno is,” Wilbur’s free hand grips his coat to pull it across his chest. Both hands have white knuckles. “I thought maybe he’d followed me, to try and stop me. He made a good point of arguing, he did. Kept going at it until I just… I ran. And when I turned, and he wasn’t there-“

“They can’t be dead. Techno’s too strong to die, that’s why I trusted him to survive being in the audience. But Tommy?” His breath is shaky as he gasps for air. “Tommy should have been smart enough to run. Because he always sticks out for himself, you know?”

Tubbo smiles. “Yeah, he does do that, doesn’t he?”

Wilbur nods. “But now I don’t know where he is. Or if he’s safe. You understand that, right? Being scared that you’re the one who- that-“

“I understand, yeah,” Tubbo takes a deep breath for the both of them. “We’ll find him, Wilbur. We’ll find them both.”

And they both know it’s a promise that might not be fulfilled, but it’s enough in the moment, it’s enough for Wilbur to give him a gentle smile. They turn back the way they came, feet treading on the path below them. Loud birds call their morning song out from the trees beside them, bees waking up to shift around the forest, some even coming up to pollinate flowers near Tubbo. 

They’re beautiful; he makes a mental note to get more of his own once he’s found Tommy and they’ve cleared up the ruin. 

He spends the rest of the day tending to the farm. With Hbomb, Antfrost and Purpled out, they’ve got less scouts and less hands to get dirty. So they divide as evenly as possible, letting Dream rest at the camp with George while Bad and Sapnap search the rubble. 

At the end of his farming his limbs ache harder than they did after he literally survived an explosion, but they have a good few stacks worth of food, so he counts it as a win. None of the scouts have returned when he gets back, so he spends a few extra minutes getting water. 

He knows it’s bad news the moment he shows up and everyone goes quiet. His stomach curls as he glances to Wilbur, who’s barely moved from beside the fire, trying to search his face for any sign of extra sadness. 

God, he thinks, God, please, don’t let it be Tommy. 

Eret clears his throat. “Tubbo,” He says, voice in that same ‘loss-of-a-loved-one’ tone. “Tubbo, we’re not sure you should-“

“Is it Tommy?” He blurts out, body tensing for the worst.

He breathes a sigh of relief when Eret shakes his head, no. “We don’t think you should see this, though,” Eret continues. “It’s pretty… messed up.”

“I’ve been through a war,” He points out. “There was bloodshed then. And injuries, too. So, I can probably handle it.”

“They’re really bloody,” Bad pipes up. “Are you sure-“

“I’m not scared of blood,” He shrugs. “Do we- who?”

Dream clears his throat. “Sam,” He starts, eyes glancing to where Wilbur sits, voice low for the next name; “And Schlatt.”

It’s almost instantaneous. Wilbur’s head snaps towards Dream, eyes on him like a hawk on their prey. Tubbo puts the buckets down, moving forward, but stops when he hears laughter bubble out of Wilbur. 

Wilbur’s laugh starts in his body, with no noise at all, and rises until it brings back the ringing in Tubbo’s ears. The man’s legs shake as he stands, stalking over and pushing his way past the crowd with nothing but maniac laughter in his tracks. “Oh my god!” He declares, hands in the air. “Oh my god, I did it!”

Something pitiful is in Nikki’s voice; “Wilbur…”

He spins around, eyes darting over the camp place, a smile on his face. “I did it! All of this, don’t you see, all of this worked,” He gestures wildly to the space around them as if he were still in the explosion. “I did it! I got rid of him, and- I fixed it! I was the villain and it worked!”

“We’re free, don’t you feel free?”

His stomach churns with disgust. Schlatt is bloodied, body pale and ashy, thin and almost nothing but skin and bone. His mouth is parted ever so slightly, lips quirked as if he were smirking. Tubbo shivers at the sight. 

Wilbur continues; “God, guys! You should be smiling! Smile, we’re free!” His coat splays open as he throws his hands up and then towards Schlatt. “That bastard is dead! I did it, I blew it all up- and- and it worked! It worked!”

The stench of death fills the air and Tubbo isn’t sure how he didn’t pick up on it before. Bile rises to mix with the lump in his throat until he feels suffocated between the two. His legs are weak, and he reminds himself to breathe, he needs to breathe- 

“It worked,” Wilbur says in a meek voice, staring at Tubbo. “It worked, it worked, it worked-“ He curls up, laughing between his words, thick tears staining his deranged face. He runs his hand through his hair, meeting Tubbo’s eyes as he laughs out the phrase again. 

It’s the face of a broken, broken man. Wilbur takes a seat again, hiccuping. “It’s- we’re-“ he struggles for words as he watches the fire. “He’s dead. He’s… he’s dead.”

-

It feels like Tubbo’s holding his breath as they bury Schlatt. It doesn’t take long to dig the grave, not with as much help as they’ve got. Within minutes, silent, long minutes where he can’t even hear the shovel hit the ground or the dirt fall, Schlatt is buried and forgotten. The only marking that he’s there is the sign they leave in remembrance. 

Even if Tubbo can’t read, not all that well, the sign makes him straighten his back ever so slightly. He feels like eyes are staring down at him, smirking and laughing, just like… he takes a deep breath and turns to the next grave they’re digging, but it doesn’t make him feel better. 

Sam’s lips are parted, slightly less than Schlatt’s, curled like he’s smiling. His lip is stained with dried blood, his body thin and pale. His golden chest plate is scuffed and stained with the brown of dried blood, his festival wear torn and loose on his tight, dead muscles. 

Tubbo swallows back vomit. 

As they lower Sam’s body into the grave, someone makes the point of shutting his eyes. It almost looks like he’s unconscious, as if he were sleeping. He has half the mind to be mad that Wilbur killed someone who he’s only seen invite nothing but warmth and happiness. 

Would he feel the same about Tommy’s funeral? 

He doesn’t need to think like this. There will be no funeral for Tommy, not soon enough for him to need to think about it. He would have the decency to close his best friends eyes, though, so that the dirt didn’t get in them. 

Each shovel of dirt onto Sam leaves the air heavier on each of them. Tubbo’s chest feels filled with rocks by the time there’s a sign placed to mark where Sam lies. Someone puts flowers down.

He doesn’t walk with Wilbur that night. It takes everything he has to not cry himself to sleep. 

In the morning of the seventh, he watches as they add one more grave to the tally of people currently dead. Sam, Punz, and Callahan line the right edge of the clearing. Quackity is buried next to Schlatt, as if putting the five together would break some unspoken rule.

Someone’s added more flowers to Sam’s grave. 

He spends the rest of the day wondering if Tommy would want flowers on his grave. 

-

He wakes up gasping for air, body shivering despite the heat he feels within him. It takes him a moment of two to recognise the soft bed under him and the fire outside the tent, but when he does, all his previous panic melts into a heaviness in his chest. 

Breath moves in and out of him like waves. 

The weight of so many dead is clearly taking a toll; not a single smile has spread over their faces since before yesterday afternoon. Wilbur watches the fire with no emotion, not moving, hardly there. 

He hasn’t said a word since he declared he was right. He hasn’t moved, crushing berries in his hands and watching the juice stain his skin as if he doesn’t hear Nikki beg him to eat. It’s like trying to keep a ghost alive. 

Even with all this, heavy on Tubbo’s chest like bricks, his eyes are still open as he lies in bed. 

When he closes them, images of blood and ash stain the insides of his eyelids. When he opens them, the reality of their situation hits him in the way the fire crackles outside. Wilbur must be tending to it. 

That’s a good start. Wilbur’s been leaving the fire to die recently, almost revelling in the sight of it. The fact it’s alive past the time everyone’s gone to bed is a good sign, and that means things will get better, which means there’s hope. That’s better than nothing. 

It is better than nothing. 

Tubbo peels his blanket off him and swings his legs over the side of the bed, unsure of how loud the action sounds. He pauses, waiting a moment to watch Eret’s body, but the man makes no sign of moving. Either he’s asleep, or he’s too tired to ask Tubbo where he’s going. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers, and he doesn’t want to dwell on it. He needs a breath of air, somewhere where he can see the stars, somewhere far from the stench of dried blood and death. 

Some part of him hesitates as he sits on the log beside Wilbur. The weight of his chest almost knocks the words out of him, almost leaves him alone in the forest because he feels like he can’t breathe. “Walk?” Is all he manages to croak out. 

By some miracle, Wilbur understands him. 

The air feels colder away from the camp. Neither of them say a word about it, as Tubbo watches his feet hit the dirt below, eyes purposefully avoiding the flowers. Once they’re a good chunk or so away, he turns his face towards the stars, and does his best to smile. 

He isn’t sure how long it’s been when he casts his eyes back down to the grass. Wilbur’s beside him, silently watching the stars with eyes that do nothing but reflect them. Tubbo begins to see the Allium flowers around them- he shoves all thoughts of Tommy and funerals to the back of his mind- while the world lightens up. Bees begin to lazily buzz around the forest. 

It feels as if he can breathe again when he faces towards the glowing sunrise. The air is clear, cold and crisp as it enters his lungs. It smells of wet dirt and pollen. It smells of Wilbur, however broken, of a familiar place where he could spend days messing around with his best friend and never care about what would happen if they were caught. 

When he turns to head back with Wilbur, he finds the man staring into the bush, an unrecognisable expression on his face. “Wilbur?” He asks, peering around and following the man’s gaze. 

The bush shifts again. With a vaguely confused expression, messy hair and a ruffled cape, out steps Technoblade. 

Instead of being happy, he feels only confusion as he watches Wilbur light up. “You’re alive!” Wilbur cries, heaving his body forward like he depends on touching Techno. “No, you can’t be alive-“

He stops just out of reach of the two of them, stumbling backwards until Tubbo can reach his shoulder, Wilbur’s breath speeding up. “You can’t be alive, you can’t be, I’m just-“ He coughs, dry and empty, like there’s smoke in his lungs. “I’m just dreaming! This is all a dream, you’re not real, you, you can’t be-“

“Don’t- I can’t- this isn’t-“ His (very) former leader struggled to find words for himself as he stumbles backwards. At some point Tubbo and Wilbur are both on the ground, and Techno walks over. “None of this is real! None of it is! I’m going to wake up and- and- and it’ll all be gone, and L’manburg-“

“Wilbur, you’re going to hyperventilate,” Techno says, kneeling down to be level with him. “Breathe.”

That does nothing but push Wilbur further. “You- don’t- don’t tell me what to do! You’re not even real!” Wilbur chokes on his breath again, eyes flickering all over the place. Tubbo feels the weight on his chest again, suffocating, and his hands feel as empty as Wilbur’s eyes. 

“I’m-“ Wilbur gasps a little harder for air, but it leaves as quickly as it came. “This isn’t- this isn’t real-“

There’s a thud as Wilbur hits the dirt floor. 

“Well, uh,” Techno stands up. “That was dramatic.” 

Tubbo appreciates the joke as he stands. “Yeah, it was,” he laughs. “Uh. How do-“ He gestures to the collapsed man in front of them both. He tries to ignore the way Wilbur reminds him of the bodies they buried this morning, eyes shut, the only difference being that Wilbur is breathing. “How do we get him back? I can’t- he might freeze if we wait out here. I can’t carry him.”

In one swift motion, the taller man has Wilbur slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Tubbo blinks, but chooses to ignore how effortless it was. “That solves it!” He says, shoving down the fear of how dead Wilbur looks, how limp and lifeless, and oh god- 

He turns on his heel and takes a deep breath, plastering a smile on. “The camp is this way!” He announces as he walks back the way they had come, the same breathless and heavy feeling settling on his chest. 

Tubbo finds himself at Techno’s side as they walk. The only thing he thinks to say is; “So, do you know where Tommy is?” 

Techno is quiet for a moment, but his face doesn’t fall as far as Tubbo can tell, so that’s a plus. “Uhhh… maybe?”

“That’s not…” Tubbo takes a moment to steady the shaking in his body. There’s two outcomes; Techno knows where Tommy is, or he doesn’t. And then, if he does know, Tommy could be dead. Tommy could already have been buried. 

The thought of his best friend’s funeral felt bad. Missing it feels even worse. 

“That’s not really an answer,” Tubbo responds, picking up his pace to catch up to Techno. “Do you? Is he alive?” 

He gets a short nod in reply. Even if it’s vague, that’s all he needs, for now. 

He feels the need to clarify that Wilbur is not, in fact, dead when they walk into the camp. As he does, Techno unceremoniously (but still carefully, Tubbo notes) dumps Wilbur onto a bed in the grey tent. He drapes the blanket over his brother and turns, the rest of the camp watching with wide eyes. 

“What? You guys look like you’re starin’ at a ghost.”

Nikki shifts first, gathering food and water, putting both down as she sits next to Wilbur. “He- he isn’t dead, he’s just sleeping?” It’s a statement, but her voice is so weak Tubbo can’t help but feel like she doesn’t believe it. 

“Yeah! Yeah, he just passed out, probably just tired,” Tubbo lets the lie leave his mouth without a second thought. He isn’t even sure why he feels like it’s a shield, like if they knew the truth, something might happen. He knows nothing would. He’s just scared. 

Nikki doesn’t ask anything else, sitting beside Wilbur and washing carrots for when he wakes up. The camp steadily returns to normal, each following their own morning routine. Tubbo gathers the limited things he thinks he might need; food, some torches, sticks, wood and wool. 

When he turns to go to Technoblade, he finds Dream is there already. The man’s mask covers most of his face, but a joking smirk creeps it’s way onto Dream’s lips as he speaks; “It’s good to see you made it.”

Techno responds with a small, similar joking smile on his lips. “Likewise,” He says, as Dream turns back to George and Sapnap. 

Once Dream is out of earshot, Tubbo pipes in. “So, when do we leave?” 

“When…” Techno blinks. “We?”

“We,” Tubbo responds, and he hasn’t felt as sure as this at all since the explosion. So when Techno turns away, possibly meaning to leave him behind, he follows without another word. 

The grass waves in the wind as they walk, bees meeting beautifully bloomed flowers. Leaves rustle on trees, and their feet meet solid dirt for a good couple of hours. It smells of oak trees and grass, a smell that makes Tubbo smile. 

He doesn’t realise someone’s been talking to him until there’s a hand waving in front of his face. He stops walking to respond; “Oh, sorry, what was that?”

Techno frowns. There’s a moment of quiet where Tubbo debates how badly this can go if he missed something important and Techno is upset. “Did you get hearin’ loss from the explosion?”

It hits him unexpectedly that Techno isn’t mad he didn’t hear what he said. He can do nothing but shrug it off as he jumps to answer the question. “N- actually,” He stops to take a breath. “That- y’know, actually maybe?”

The frown on the man’s face deepens before it softens, and then they’re back on their way. “I said the flowers looked nice.”

Tubbo smiles. “They do, don’t they?”

He feels a bubble of warmth at the sight of the Poppy’s they pass. It’s easier to focus on that instead of the crawling fear he feels growing in him- hearing loss? It makes sense. He isn’t sure what it means, but he knows they probably can’t treat it, and that scares him. 

What sounds is he missing? His mind supplies him with moments; a stone rolling down a hill without a sound, footsteps he never heard, the wind’s sudden lack of noise. The lack of buzzing from his bee friends, the breath he only watches leave his friends that he knows he should hear. 

What else has he missed? What else will he miss? 

It’s easier to shove it down. It’s easier not to focus on how the dirt only crumples beneath his feet without a crunch. It’s frightening how irreversible it is, and Tubbo feels like he should be angry, but he’s too scared, too tired to feel anything but desperation. 

He can’t wait to see Tommy. 

Yes, he thinks. Think about Tommy. Think about how glad you’ll be that he’s alive. Tommy’s loud, you’ll never not hear him. But he’ll miss things. The exhale of a tired breath, the humming of a quiet song from one of his other friends. 

It’s a lot to process. He decides to do it later, once he’s with Tommy, and he knows they’re both safe. Techno takes an abrupt turn into further bush, until the trees give way to a familiar river and a cobblestone bridge. Tubbo crosses it like it’s secondhand, frowning a little at the quiet. 

He’ll just have to get used to it. That won’t be so bad. 

The path looks familiar the moment they cross a mountain and Tubbo’s mind catches up with his feet. “Are you leading me to Pogtopia?” He asks, stumbling as he catches up on the back of a pond he remembers. 

“Uhhh… yes.” Techno casts a glance towards the skeletal horse, tied up in a hole so he doesn’t escape. The horse perks up to look at Tubbo, maybe distantly remembering him, before turning back to grazing on the grass without a care. 

It’s exactly like he remembers when Techno digs out the dirt to reveal the entrance to Pogtopia. The bed is left untouched in the corner of the room, each chest and crafting table in the same way, and somehow it’s a relief. 

He feels like a weight is lifted off his chest, replaced by the inking of fear and excitement. He tries not to let his mind get ahead of him as Techno leads him slowly down the spiral staircase and onto the unstable paths lining the walls of Pogtopia. 

Once they reach the very bottom, Techno takes a turn towards a door opposite of the potato farm. He slowly pushes it open with his hand, silently letting Tubbo in. There’s a minimal amount of torches, most on the walls furthest from the bed. Tubbo isn’t entirely sure why Techno has lead him here until he noticed there’s something shifting in the bed.

“Tommy?” 

His friend groans, limbs moving slower than Tubbo remembers. He blinks at the door, covering his eyes with his hand as if the light is blinding him. His body sways as his disoriented pupils focus on his best friend. “Tubbo?” 

“Are-“ Tubbo stumbles forward as Techno shuts the door, leaving them both alone, until he reaches Tommy’s bedside. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Tommy snorts, even if it is a little delayed. “‘M fine, Big T,” He swings his legs over the side and leans back, patting the space next to him. Tubbo links their hands together the moment he’s beside Tommy. “Jus’ hit my head, is all.” 

Tubbo frowns. “You mean like a con- a… like. Like a concuss-ion?” 

“Concussion, yeah, something like that, but I’m fine,” Tommy responds, yawning. Gently, he lays his head on Tubbo’s shoulder. “How’ve you been, big man?”

It feels like home. He shifts the blanket so it’s over their feet as he talks to Tommy about everything, any of the events that come into his mind. His best friend’s steady breathing reminds him that he’s okay as it washes over his skin, and even if he can’t hear it, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. 

Six days ago, L’manburg blew up. Just a few seconds ago, Tubbo found Tommy. Now, his best friend’s warmth lies next to him, and he can feel his eyelids getting heavy with his own need for rest. It feels like home, and they’re both safe. 

He shuts his eyes, and doesn’t wonder what will happen when he opens them.


	2. Tommy (you’re the only friend I need, sharing beds like little kids)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title from Lorde’s ‘Ribs’

Oh god. Tubbo.

Oh god- 

His ears ring as a boom sounds across the land. 

Someone warm pulls him from rubble, moving the weight on his chest, and he vaguely registers being held against something warm, something familiar. He struggles to grip his hands around the fabric, head pounding in pain and body shaking. His breath pours in and out of him like waves, crashing against him like painful rocks. An invisible force pulls him back and forth, swaying him as if he were stuck in a tide. He groans, limbs heavy like bricks as he settles against this unknown saviour.

It feels like seconds, but he knows it’s minutes, maybe hours before he settles into a bed. “He blew it up,” Tommy finds the ability to say. “Is Tubbo-”

There’s no time to hear an answer. His stomach churns as his ears ring, mind numbing pain rippling through him. Techno comes into his view, a frown on his face; “Tommy,” He says plainly. “How many fingers am I holdin’ up?”

Blood stains Techno’s three fingers. Tommy repeats the number back to him, blinking slowly, eyelids heavy. “‘M Tired, Tech,” He mumbles. His brother sighs, moving back and going over to the water that they have in the corner. “Tech? Where’s Tubbo?”

He’s not very good at reading people, but at that moment, he knows Techno has no clue what to say to him. And god, his head hurts. His brother is hunched over a bucket, dipping some ripped sheets in until they’re soaked. Tommy can hardly focus on the action as nausea swims through him, fire settling in his body, soothed by the cold rock and dirt he leans against. 

“How are you feelin’?” Techno turns back to him, bloodied yet gentle as he presses a damp cloth to Tommy’s bleeding leg. 

Opening his mouth, Tommy moves to sit up, and ends up leaning back against the rock with a shaky breath. Bile stings his throat as his hands shake. “Blade, I-” He steels himself, gripping the bed as the world spins around him. “Blade, I’m gonna puke.”

Techno’s eyes widen, pulling the cloth away from his leg and pushing an empty bucket his way. One world lapses into another as Tommy, body spinning with dizziness, struggles to get even a small breath in. Techno tentatively holds the longer strands of his hair out of his face- if he weren’t dry heaving his lungs out, he would complain about needing a haircut. 

Air leaves his chest as his eyes fill with tears, throat burning up until there’s sickening, acidic bile pouring from his throat. His knuckles are white as he grips the edge of the bucket, body sore as the floor mashes into a blurry mess of nothing, pulling him into it as Techno rubs his back, unsure of the action. He groans as his throat opens enough to let him breathe again, no longer pouring stinging, hot liquid out. Without registering it, he’s leaning back against Techno, eyelids heavy and hands quivering almost as much as his breath. “I’m gonna move you,” He says, picking Tommy up like he might break any minute, putting him back on the bed. “Is your head sore?”

Tommy does his best to nod, afraid he might keel over and throw up again. “I’m goin’ to clean it, stay still.” Techno presses a damp cloth to his head, and Tommy focuses on the soothing cold that comes with it. He barely registers it’s gone until the burning heat settles back into his bones, and Techno returns to dabbing the cloth on his leg. 

“Alright,” Techno pulls away from him, still frowning. “Tommy, what happened?”

Breath pours from his lips, body shivering as he tries to recall the minutes between rushing towards Tubbo and now. “I… I fuckin…” He mumbles, trying to figure out what he’s going to say. “Wilbur fuckin’... he blew.. He blew everythin’ up, ‘n Tubbo- fuckin’ Tubbo didn’t start runnin’ after hs cue so I tried to push him away, ‘n then…”

“You pushed him out of the way,” Techno repeats back to him. “What happened next? Do you remember?”

Tommy swallows. “I… You? Carried me back here.”

His brother nods, and Tommy realises his crown is discarded on the chest across the room, cape left laying on top of the furnaces. Techno offers him a loaf of bread, and he takes it, picking off pieces to eat until his eyes slip closed, and he slips into a restless sleep. 

He dreams of ashes and Tubbo. He dreams of fire and Wilbur. He dreams of fire, ashes, and a boy with a green shirt laid underneath Manburg, red blood spilling against the monotone rock and rubble. Every inch of his body is stained with that same red, the world pouring into black around the edges as he is pulled from the boy, whose eyes are closed as if he were sleeping. 

Black surrounds him as he falls from the world, heat burning into the space behind his eyes. 

Wordlessly, he screams for his best friend, who never wakes up. 

He does. 

Techno is next to him, a clean bucket by Tommy’s bedside. Messy pink hair and a slight frown remind Tommy of his childhood enough to calm his gasping for air. “Tech- I-” He chokes back tears and the fresh memory of blood. “Tubbo-”

In Tommy’s mind, Techno doesn’t hug often. The last time they hugged was after they won MCC, a celebration between the two, and then they’d parted ways with a smile. His brother doesn’t hug for everything, and certainly doesn’t hug often- Phil’s the one to hug- but now, there are strong arms wrapped around him, soft enough not to hurt but strong enough to scream safe. 

Warm. Safe. He smiles as tears pour from him, head pounding to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Techno lets him pull away, holding him until he’s composed enough to lay back against the stone. 

“Eat this,” Techno hands a cooked salmon to him, and within minutes it’s gone and the world is swaying. The pain in his stomach dies down, leaving him hot and shaky. His head hurts, his ears ring, and he closes his eyes to focus solely on the sound of Techno making his way down the stairs. 

He tries not to drift to sleep, moving to let his feet hit the floor as he steadies himself on the doorway dirt. The world slides one way and Tommy goes the other way, barely catching himself as he falls back onto the bed. With a deep breath, he rises again, swaying on his feet. It’s enough to make his mind hurt, pain settling behind his skull and buzzing behind his eyes. 

It all feels like a large boat, pulling him one way and then the other, until he settles back on the bed and breathes in and out, slowly. Shivers wrack his body as he pulls the blanket around him, each movement a beat slower than Tommy would have liked. In the midst of his movements, his mind wanders, and Tommy can’t catch it as he sits and stares at the floor, registering what happened.

Wilbur blew up Man-L’manburg. It’s all ashes and fire, all rubble and dirt, probably hardly salvageable. He links his hands together for comfort as he thinks about the wasteland that must be what remains of his home. Is Schlatt still there, trying to paint this as a reason to outcast Wilbur? Is Wilbur there, wandering the land, trying to find his way back- Will Wilbur come back?

Is he alive? 

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until it falls onto his lap, like little raindrops. Part of him says he should care, but the pounding in his head grows louder as he thinks, pushing him towards the edge of something he’s not sure he should cross. Wilbur, his brother, his leader, dead. He should’ve removed that fucking button, should’ve searched a little harder for it. 

And Tubbo, his dear friend Tubbo, who may be dead alongside Wilbur. 

Without thinking, he pushes himself to the door, limbs slow- he gets frustrated with the spinning world and his aching limbs the minute he stands, grumbling to himself about how stupid it is to be complaining when he has to make sure Tubbo’s okay. His body complains at the movement, each step feeling slower than the other, every movement making him want to do nothing more than hunch over and vomit.  
Everything is spinning. His hands, his legs, his feet all feel solid as his head spins like the floor beneath him, like the dirt door he tries to dig through with his hands. His chest stings as his eyes prick with tears, but he keeps digging. He needs to keep digging. He needs to know Tubbo is okay, needs to know Wilbur didn’t-

He chokes on his breath, hands failing as his head swims. He’s almost through the dirt, he can do it, for Tubbo. But he’s going to vomit, and he can’t, this is too much- Where did- How- 

The floor is cold. Where did things go so wrong?

There’s nothing to vomit. He heaves like he might, but the only thing that stains the bucket he grips is tears. His head hurts. His body hurts. Something that feels like sadness settles into his chest, twisting in pain, like he has any right to be this hurt when Tubbo could be worse. But he can’t push himself up any further, can’t bring himself to move, his arms feel like bricks and his legs feel like stone beneath him. 

Everything lapses into each other, becoming a blurry mess of browns, greys, and whites. Tommy hiccups out a sob, wondering if Tubbo is searching for him, and it feels like a dagger to the heart when he imagines his best friend calling his name and getting no response. God, they should’ve run away. He should’ve stopped Wilbur, should’ve followed him and removed the button. 

Wilbur. His brother. It seems like so long ago that they were talking about fighting and living together. Like a decade ago when his brother would be smiling when he saw him, not caught up in traitors and bloodshed. He can’t remember the last time he heard Wilbur laugh in a way that wasn’t vindictive. 

They’ve really fucked up, haven’t they? 

Wilbur was his leader, and he invited Schlatt to the election. Wilbur made a good point when he said they were taking back leadership by force, and Tubbo had looked happier, maybe…

He hiccups again, the tears stinging his skin enough to leave marks on his heart. He can’t bring himself to swallow them back, or scrub them from his face. He leans his head on the bucket’s rim, listening to its pounding like that can distract from the screaming thoughts in his head. It all blurs together into static, leaving his limbs numb and body empty. 

Black spots ripple through his vision as he fights his own breathing, nausea claiming his stomach again. He feels like a mess. Wilbur would tell him to stop being a baby- maybe he is. Maybe he’s making up all these injuries as a desperate call for attention that isn’t stilted, awkward contact that reminds him of the sudden divide between him and those he calls family. Maybe it’s selfish, but he’s always been selfish. 

The floor sways as he shivers another breath through his system, struggling to find the will to fight his eyes closing. He doesn’t manage it, can’t fight it, and so he falls victim to the darkness that spots his vision, until he’s in dreamless sleep. 

It’s warm when he wakes up, a stark contrast from the floor he had been on. He coughs out a breath, sitting up steadily, spiking pain shoots through his limbs, settling into his head. Everything in his mouth feels like cotton, his head stuffed to the brim and threatening to burst. His ears pound with heat, fingers trembling. He blinks the blur from his eyes, sitting up as he yawns.

There’s one torch on the far wall of the room. Tommy binks at it, struggling to focus on the image of the flames lapping at the air around it. The light makes his eyes hurt, so he looks away, towards the stone opposite his bed. 

He doesn’t know how long it is until Techno makes his way up the stairs, quiet, crown in his hands (and then discarded on top of the furnace). Techno sits down, back against the door dirt, not saying a word. He doesn’t need to, Tommy knows that they both understand what happened. Grey stone stares back at him, darkened by the lack of light. He clears his throat, speech slurred by his blurred eyes and the exhaustion in his bones; “Is Wilbur alive?”

Silence settles between them, as if there’s an unspoken answer that Tommy should know. His fingertips feel numb as he clenches them around the sheets, letting the tension leave him when his fingers slowly uncurl. He sighs- the lack of response is enough of an answer- and wishes he would collapse into a ball of pillows and affection, wishes he didn’t feel so lonely despite being in a room with another person. 

Pain settles behind his eyes, leaving his chest feeling hollow and his stomach twisting in pain that rises into his throat. So Wilbur’s out of the picture, and he has no clue if Tubbo is the same, but Techno is here. That’s not bad. It’s not enough, but it’s not bad, and Tommy is grateful that Techno had the thought to save him.

But if Wilbur turns out to be alive, if Tubbo is the dead one, Tommy’s going to burn this server to the fucking ground. Because that. That would be fucked beyond repair. 

He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, which is stained by blood and torn from wreckage. Next to him, Techno shifts, laying his head back against the dirt and shutting his eyes. Tommy has half the mind to attempt to walk the path back to Manburg- the path Tubbo had made- but he knows if he shifted, Techno would be alert to it. He wouldn’t get far before collapsing. He’d hardly get half that distance before Techno caught him. 

Still, he eyes the spiral staircase with interest, wondering if it’s possible. If he could manage the steps, the slope, if he could stay hidden. 

It’s not possible. He kicks his legs over the edge of the bed and sighs. Techno’s finger twitches at that, a response to the noise. Tommy rests his own head back against the wall, trying to ignore the pounding in it, despite the pain that comes with. 

Pressing his fingertips together, he tries his best not to think of the many ways he could have fixed this. He tries to remember what it felt like to be blown back by the explosion, to hit the ground, he scours the memory for some idea of Tubbo’s state. 

He gives up. He goes to sleep. 

Techno leaves him alone the next day. He’s awake when it happens, Techno only replacing the bottom block of the dirt door, leaving soft sunlight spilling through the door. Outside it’s grey, small bits of ash drifting in with the wind, and Tommy manages to stand and lean against the dirt so he can see outside. 

The grass is green, stained with the spots of ash. The sky is blue, tainted slightly by the red of fire. He can’t see beyond the hill covering Manburg, but he can see the pond, and his horse. 

He waves, and the skeletal horse ignores him. Tommy finds himself smiling. His movements are slow, each difficult action taking what feels like forever, but it seems to help ease his dizziness. Deliberately and slowly, he curls his leg into himself, sitting on the dirt door block and watching the sky. His legs ache from lack of use. 

A soft breeze caresses his skin, freezing compared to the fire in his bones. When he finishes settling, he takes a deep breath of ashy air, feeling his head calm slightly. The dull sunlight sits behind his eyelids, and Tommy listens to the heartbeat in his head as he sits there with his eyes closed. 

The birds are chirping. 

Some part of him considers walking through the forest. A stronger majority of himself is too exhausted to bother. He finds himself situated between the two, still in the little box, one open eye watching the leaves of each tree shift in the wind. He feels warm, but his skin begins to ripple with cold. 

The sky is beautiful, even if it’s covered by smoke in places. If it were a normal day, Tommy would find a good way to spend it with his best friend, and whoever else decided to join in on their tomfoolery. 

It’s the kind of day they’d end by sitting on a bench and listening to Mellohi or Chirp. 

Techno comes back with berries. Tommy meets him at the door, unsure if he’s able to move without help, and wordlessly his brother hands him a good bunch before sitting down and feasting on his own. 

The red stains their hands, but the berries are bursting with sweetness. Tommy laughs as he presses some of them between his fingers, watching them give a satisfying pop before they spill juice onto his cold skin. He licks it off the best he can, but the colour stains him. 

As the sun begins to set, Tommy feels himself grow tired, and marvels in being awake for a day. It’s not a big achievement, but he’s slept through majority of the days so far, and he’s proud of himself for managing to stay awake for this one. 

It was worth it, he thinks, as Techno makes him get off the dirt block and back into bed. 

“How long ago was the explosion?” He doesn’t really need to know, but if he does, he can tell whether or not he can find Tubbo and still save him if he’s hurt. 

Techno eyes him up. “Four days, I think.”

“That’s not long,” Tommy comments aloud. “How was your walk, Big man?”

The pillow welcomes him, but a vast majority of his body wants to talk, because if he talks, then he can figure things out. So he leans against the wall and gives Techno a smile, watching the man remove his crown and cloak. “Good,” Techno responds. “Easier than farmin’.”

“Farming sucks.”

“Someone’s gotta feed us.”

A smile spreads across his lips. “I guess,” He says. Looking down at his hands; “Those berries were nice, blade.”

“You feelin’ alright?” Techno takes his place on the floor, looking at him with genuine interest. Tommy feels all too conscious of the way that his eyes drift over Tommy’s body. 

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “I’m feeling great.”

He gets a nod in response, the elder leaning his head back and shutting his eyes again. Tommy takes it as enough of a cue and lays down himself, taking deep breaths as his head spins with pain. It calms as he shuts his eyes, but the pain remains, even weaseling it’s way into his ears before he can drift off. 

Sometimes he doesn’t remember what he dreams of. This dream is all too vivid; a river, a boy, and far too many bees. For some reason, he’s a bee, and all he eats are berries. It doesn’t bother him in his dreams. All that bothers him is the way Tubbo cries so suddenly, and keeps crying until Tommy wakes up. 

He lays with his eyes cast towards the roof for a good few minutes. Techno’s soft, sleeping breaths can be heard beside him. He’s careful not to wake Techno with his own movements, shuffling until he can see the vague outline of his elder brother in the dark. 

Is it weird? Probably. But Tommy does it anyway, watching Techno to remind himself that he has someone around. Heat courses through his bones, rising in his cheeks and throbbing in his head. He breathes out, in time with Techno. 

There’s nothing about Techno’s appearance he hasn’t seen before. He’s seen the pig mask, he’s seen the scars that litter Techno’s skin, he’s seen the smile that can grace the usually solemn face, he’s seen the dead-pan one liners. His favourite of all these is the face Techno makes when he’s sleeping. There’s a soft smile on his lips, eyes shut, features as relaxed as Tommy has seen them in a long time. It’s comforting to have someone around, as Tommy’s sleeping mind tries to remind him of his dream, of Tubbo’s tears. 

Even with Techno beside him, Tommy doesn’t sleep well.

The fifth day brings him nothing but quiet. Techno leaves again, returning earlier than before with no gifts. Tommy is rendered useless by the insufferable pain in his head and behind his eyes, drifting in and out of painful sleep and attempting to slow the rapid dizziness that fills him everytime he tries to stand. 

When Techno comes up from the ravine to hand him some baked potato and fish, Tommy groans. “My fucking head feels like I just bashed it in.”

“You hit it pretty hard,” Techno says. “Not surprised it hurts.”

He reluctantly chews on some fish, his jaw aching and tight, increasing the pain in his head every time it moves. “Fucking hell,” He says. “It’s like I’ve split it open or some shit.”

Techno gives him the beginning of a laugh, not quite a full laugh but enough to let him know he’s being slightly funny. “I don’t have healin’ pots yet, I’m gettin’ onto it.”

“Good.”

Surprisingly, the fish doesn’t taste half bad. And the aching in his body lessens after some food, leaving him to lay down and deal with the last of the tension gripping him. Techno doesn’t join him on the floor, instead heading out the door. 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on where his brother his going. His eyelids weigh themselves down until they shut, a yawn being the last thing he remembers before he drops off into quiet. 

Techno returns in the early hours of the morning, waking him accidentally with the gentle light. Tommy makes the mistake of jolting upright when he wakes, leaving the world trialing after him- when it hits, he feels tight in the chest and dizzy in the head, doing his best to breathe through the heat and throbbing that comes with the world becoming a blurry mess. 

Potatoes. They have potatoes and carrots for breakfast. He doesn’t register either, thinking only of one thing; “Hey blade,” He begins, putting down the carrot he had been eating. “D’you mind helping me down to the ravine?”

Eyeing the staircase, Techno gives him a shrug. “Yeah, can do that,” He says. “How’re you feelin’, Tommy?”

“Pretty poggers,” Tommy’s eyes leave the entrance to the staircase only to make sure he picks up the carrot as he continues to eat it. “I think I’m gonna be the best fuckin’ walker this server’s ever seen.”

He is not, in fact, the best walker this server has ever seen. They pause a total of ten times for him to catch his breath or stop the world spinning, and by the time they reach the unsteady pathways, Tommy is sure he’s going to vomit. His legs sting, his mind bashes against his skull and pain spikes behind his eyes as if he’s driven a knife to the back of his head. 

“I could carry you,” Techno offers as he sits on the final step of the staircase. 

“What? Hell no, I can walk,” Tommy retaliates. “‘M just… just charging up my energy. Gotta make sure I got the right amount of energy to be the best walker around.”

Techno snorts. “You sure?”

Looking at the fall, Tommy considers the pathways with a critical eye, ignoring the swaying he feels pulling him side to side. It’s going to be hell to get down, and he could fall- as fun as that sounds, hitting the floor would suck. 

He’s pretty sure his legs would actually break. 

“Fine,” He says, opening his arms to give a Techno a not-hug hug as Techno picks him up without a second thought. He’s reminded that at any moment, Techno could probably snap him like a twig. He shoves that thought away. “This is only because I haven’t got the right amount of energy, though. On any other day I’d take this whole trip like a champ.”

Techno gives him a hum. “Yeah, sure.”

“I would,” He argues, even though Techno technically agreed with him. “I’m the best walker. I’d do it all in three minutes. But I can’t right now, because you’re carrying me.”

“You want me to put you down?” 

“I didn’t- no- I didn’t say that,” Tommy tries his best not to look at the fall as Techno continues the path downwards. He’s not afraid of heights, he’s just not in the mood for broken bones. “I just said that I need to recharge, and you insisted on carrying me.”

“Sure.”

“I’m right! You did!”

“Mhm.”

Tommy gives the argument up as Techno sets him down on a chest, letting him sit on the lid as he pulls a pick axe from his inventory. He begins to mine a small hole into the wall opposite the farm, not minding Tommy as the boy digs through their supplies. 

He’s not looking for anything in particular. Just checking in, trying to find something to occupy his mind. An unlit torch catches his attention as he pulls it out, handing it to Techno when the man comes back. 

With the payment of a polite smile, Techno takes the torch into the hole and places it on the wall. Dim yellow light barely makes its way out of the entrance as the torch is lit. His head clears up as he stands next to the chest, slow and deliberate breaths matching the pacing of his movements. 

Each step is accompanied with a deep breath and outstretched hands, until he reaches the carved out entrance and Techno steps back from a neatly made bed.

“I’m not carryin’ you back up.” That’s all Techno has to say before Tommy is stumbling over to the bed, sitting down with a small smile, relieved at the cold sheets and even cooler stone. 

“Thanks,” Tommy breathlessly whispers. “Didn’t wanna go back up, anyway.” 

A door solidifies the room as Tommy messes the sheets up enough to get under them, thankful for the lack of heat he feels in the near-dark room. This was a great idea, and definitely what he intended to happen. 

Yep. Today went as planned. 

But without the muffled noises from beyond the dirt door or the distant sounds of Techno farming, Tommy feels truly alone. It brings tears to his eyes as his mind argues that this, this is what Tubbo must be feeling. Because who knows if Tubbo has found anyone, who knows if he’s not wandering the wasteland calling for Tommy. 

He wishes he had the strength to move as he sinks into the sheets, breath wracking him as hot tears sting his skin and settle into his ears as a hot, sticky, messy blob. The dark stone stares back at him. He chokes on his tears and the spit in the back of his throat as he hiccups, gasping for breath between his burning head and the balls of pain he calls eyes. 

It hurts. God, it hurts so much. 

Techno is still there, probably still farming, right? It would only take a few steps, his heart argues, for him to get his brother. For there to be comfort. But he can’t bring himself to move, so he lays there, breath catching on his own sobs, until his eyes are dry and his head hurts with more than just his injury. 

The sheets are no longer cold. The stone that stares back at him mixes with the spots of black in his vision as he tries to promise himself he’ll find Tubbo, that Tubbo will be alive, that there won’t be a grave with a boy his age lying six feet under. 

It’s not possible. Tubbo is alive. 

Please, god, let him be alive. Tommy’s not sure what the world would be like without him. He’s spent time without Tubbo before, they’ve been on opposite teams and they’ve been separated by distance, but he’s always had the comforting thoughts that Tubbo was, in fact, there. That Tubbo was still a living, breathing boy his age that he could talk to. There’s something frightening about the unknown, something terrifying about not having that thought to comfort him anymore. 

Darkness swallows most of his vision, until his breathing is as even as he can hope for it to be, and he fights the urge to fall asleep. If he’s awake, then maybe he’ll get the chance to feel like he isn’t alone anymore. When he hears Techno moving, he goes rigid, sleep banished from his tired mind. 

He can hear Techno walking up the stairs. It does his head in, every inch of his body screaming as hot tears pour down the side of his face again. He missed his chance for comfort, was too busy wallowing to ask for help when he needed it. And now he’s truly, honestly alone. Everything is sticky, and far, far too warm, and he feels loneliness wrap itself around his throat, choking him inside out. It settles in his bones, leaving his feet numb as he gasps for air, gasps for contact he’ll never get. 

Sleep takes him like that, letting him have a moment freedom from the numbness in his body, the one that settles behind his eyes. 

The first thing he hears is the door opening. 

“Tommy?” 

He groans, turning over, blinking his eyes and slowly sitting up with his palms pressed into the wane bed sheets beneath him. His pillow is still stained with tears, but he ignores that in favour of looking at the person before him. The light from the door is blinding, so he covers his eyes with one hand. That voice is- 

“Tubbo?” 

Techno shuts the door, Tubbo stumbling forward with wide eyes. “Are-“ He takes a deep breath, reaching Tommy’s bedside. They’re so close, and Tommy nearly cries at how badly he wants to hug Tubbo, but he’s stopped by his exhaustion. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” 

He takes a moment to process the questions before snorting. “‘M fine, Big T,” He mumbles, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He can’t bring himself to hug Tubbo, just in case this is another dream, but he’ll take any comfort he can get. He pats the space beside him. “Jus’ hit my head, is all.” 

Tubbo links their hands together the minute he sits beside Tommy. If Tommy wasn’t exhausted, he would cry at how gentle his friend is. He can feel Tubbo frowning. “You mean like a con-a….like,” Tubbo takes a moment to think, making Tommy smile. “Like a concuss-ion?”

It’s not cold, but he isn’t burning anymore. Tubbo radiates a calm warmth, and Tommy feels himself growing tired from the early wake. “Concussion, yeah, something like that, but I’m fine,” He responds, a yawn bubbling from him. It’s a simple message: Don’t worry, Tubbo, we’re okay. Gently, his head falls to Tubbo’s shoulder. “How’ve you been, big man?”

He just wants to hear Tubbo talk. Just want to sit here and be with Tubbo, just in the room together. Tubbo organises the bed’s sheet over their legs, another layer of warmth, and talks about walking through rubble and being at a camp. It makes Tommy frown, but he’s too tired to ask anything about it. 

It isn’t very long until he falls into a peaceful, warm sleep. He doesn’t dream, but that’s okay. This is enough. 

Techno wakes them a few hours later with a knock on the door. “Come in,” Tubbo says, and at some point the two of them have shifted so that Tubbo’s leaning against the stone wall, Tommy’s head on his lap. With the help of the mattress and Tubbo’s shoulder, Tommy sits up to rub his eyes at the torchlight that spills through the open doorway. 

“I’m headin’ back to the camp,” Techno says. Tommy ignores the way he shoots a glance towards him. He’s strong enough to stay without Techno for a few days. Techno clears his throat in the silence; “Uhh… I thought I should tell you. Gonna… gonna go see Wilbur, be there for a few days. Will you two be okay?”

Wilbur- Wilbur is alive?

His best friend turns to him, messy brown hair and worried eyes. “Yeah, yeah we’ll be fine, Blade,” Tommy isn’t confident they’ll go very long without doing something stupid. That’s okay. “Tell Will I said hi.”

Something in him twists at those words. There’s a silent agreement that he won’t see Wilbur, something in the air that neither of them have to discuss. Tommy can’t tell whether he’s scared or relieved. 

“Hey,” Tubbo’s voice is small, and he realises Techno has left the two of them alone. “Are you okay?”

It’s still speaking level, not a whisper, and he hears Techno’s footsteps echo as the blade walks up and out of Pogtopia. “Yeah, yeah,” The words are thick on Tommy’s tongue. “Yeah… Wilbur’s alive.”

Tubbo nods at him. “Yeah, he is. Does that scare you?”

“I dunno,” Tommy admits. “I didn’t… I didn’t really think he’d… I dunno.” 

A hand on his shoulder, resting the two of them down on the bed. “It’s okay,” Tubbo tells him. “You don’t have to see him until you’re ready, okay?”

“Thanks, Big T.” 

A moment of quiet, Tubbo’s warm hand in his. He’s reminded of Bees and Blue skies. A feeling in his gut, something between fear, relief, and a sickening ‘not again’ twists until he thinks he might suffocate under the weight of it. 

“Wilbur’s alive,” He repeats again, just to hear it. Tubbo hums. “I don’t… I don’t want to see him, Tubbo. I’m scared.”

Scared. The word leaves his mouth without him thinking. Sometimes about Tubbo just makes him admit things he isn’t sure he was aware of before. It doesn’t matter. Tubbo pulls him in until they’re hugging again. 

“It’s okay,” Tubbo says, again. “You look tired, Tommy. You should rest. We can go see Wilbur when you’re ready, he’s not in danger of anything.”

Somehow, he already knows that. But Wilbur’s his family, shouldn’t he have been trying to find him first? 

Guilt rolls in his stomach. Despite that his mind reminds him of Wilbur’s glossed stare, his manic laughter as Tommy tried to argue they didn’t need to do this. Even as he tries to shove it all down, it bubbles up and out of him as he remembers the cold, tight tension between the three of them as Wilbur had prepared for the festival. 

Loneliness settles in his bones, then, the way it had when he realised Techno wasn’t going to stop Wilbur. When Will stopped talking to him like they were a team, and more like he was waiting for Tommy to break or betray him. He takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t feel it enter or exit his body. 

He deserves to feel guilty, but he doesn’t want to feel lonely alongside it. 

Tubbo cards his fingers through Tommy’s hair, a gentle reminder not to be in his head. He’s not alone. It makes Tommy smile. They haven’t sat like this since Schlatt was elected, haven’t had the time. Tommy let’s himself relax into his best friend’s soothing touch, matching his breathing with the other. 

“Tubbo,” He says, loud enough not to be a whisper but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “I missed you.”

No one else has to hear. It’s for them, them alone. Tubbo hums a response; “I missed you too.”

They don’t talk about the wasteland of their home. Tommy doesn’t want to ask if Tubbo called for him, too focused on quieting the pounding in his ears, worried he might not be able to hold himself together if he knows the answer. 

But they’re okay. Tubbo’s okay. 

The morning is the same as every morning they shared in L’manburg. Tommy wakes up with less of a headache than the day before and pokes Tubbo until he wakes up, laughing at how annoyed Tubbo gets. 

Eventually Tubbo drags himself from bed to get food for the both of them, and they eat in contented silence. “I’m gonna try and harvest the farm today, if it’s ready,” Tubbo tells him when they’re done. “Do you want to keep me company?”

Loneliness sounds worse than sitting in silence watching Tubbo work; “Sure, Big T,” He smiles. “Let’s go!”

He stands far too quickly, and braces himself against Tubbo to breathe. Everything rushes in and out of him as if he were being spun continuously, dizzy and whipped around the world despite being still. They breathe in unison, until Tommy can straighten himself enough. 

A white blanket is placed over his shoulders by Tubbo, a grounding feeling on his shoulders. It does nothing to stop the swaying he feels every time he takes a step, but it keeps him warm and stops him from drifting off and into his head. 

Tubbo gets him settled on the edge of the farm, heading further in to check if the plants can be harvested. His hands end up pulling the blanket tight around his body, the farm room colder than he expected. 

A tune sits in the air between them, coming from Tubbo, as if it were a reminder he’s there. It makes Tommy feel a little warmer, being able to hear Tubbo. After an hour or so, Tubbo emerges from the far end of the farm. 

“It doesn’t look like all of it’s ready,” Tubbo sits next to him. “It might be tomorrow, but we’re set for food, so it doesn’t really matter when we harvest.”

Tommy hums. Tubbo doesn’t seem to notice anything, choosing to remain quiet beside him. “What do you think we’ll do after this?” He says, quiet. 

No response. 

“Tubbo?” He says louder. 

“Yeah?” 

Tommy doesn’t have the energy to be agressive; “Did you hear me?”

“Oh, sorry, no,” Tubbo grabs his hand, smiling, even if his eyes say otherwise. “What did you say?”

“I- Tubbo,” He blinks at his best friend. “You didn’t hear me?”

“Uh… no. Was it important? I’m sorry. Techno said that maybe I got hearing loss from the explosion?” Tubbo’s hand is taken back, so he can fiddle with loose string on his pants, not meeting Tommy’s eyes. 

It makes sense. Still, Tommy’s heart hurts. “I’m sorry,” He says. “I didn’t want it to happen.”

Tubbo’s eyes shoot up to meet his. “You didn’t- this isn’t your fault,” He says, loud enough to echo. “I- it’s just what happens, Tommy.”

Hardly a block sits between them, but suddenly it feels like they’re separated by thousands of chunks again. “What can’t you hear?” 

“I think…” Tubbo doesn’t meet his eyes, instead casting his gaze towards the roof. “I think it’s only very small things, y’know? Like bees. I can’t hear bees anymore. And breathing. And footsteps. Or, like. Like… running water.”

Tommy feels a frown on his lips. “You can’t hear bees?”

“I don’t think I can,” Tubbo sighs. “It’s alright.”

He pulls Tubbo’s hand from where it sits on his lap, linking their fingers together like they’ve done since they were young. “That’s…” He tries to find the words to make Tubbo stop frowning, to pull his best friend’s gaze from the rock and back onto him. “That’s sad. I’m sorry, Tubbo. But at least you can still see them, so we can get you some bees!”

A soft, speaking-level laugh. “I do want bees.”

“Yeah, we can go get you some!” Tommy turns to him. “And we can get you some flowers for them, and then you’ll have a little bee patch. This time, though, we’ll make sure Dream doesn’t get them. I’ll guard them for you!”

Another laugh, a wide smile. “We could put our bench there, too,” Tubbo adds. “And a jukebox! So we can play your discs.”

This small little garden occupies most of their conversation for the day, as they plan out a path, the flowers, and what they’ll call the bees. Tubbo takes the charge on that one, while Tommy tries his best to figure out how they’ll protect the box, settling for a fence and banning Dream from the park (though they both know that won’t last very long). 

“Hey, Tommy,” Blue eyes greet him as he blinks away the sleep in his head. “What do you think will happen now? Do you think we have to leave?”

“Why would we need to leave?” He mumbles, ignoring the dizziness in him when he yawns too aggressively. The torch in the corner of the room may provide a little light, but it’s still dark enough for Tommy to consider another go at sleep. Tubbo smiles as they settle back together, laid so that Tubbo’s back faces the rest of the room. 

“Well, we kinda… made a mess of Dream’s server.”

“We?”

“You’ll go if Wilbur and Techno go,” Tubbo says. “I’ll leave if you leave.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I might,” He finds himself shutting his eyes before he speaks again, comfort overwhelming him. “But if you want to stay, I’ll stay. We can talk about it when we need to, mkay?”

Tubbo pokes him. “But I wanna talk about it now.”

“Well, I don’t,” Tommy peels open his eyes and pokes Tubbo back. “I wanna sleep and then eat somethin’. We can talk about it when we see Dream.”

They’re both quiet, Tommy placing an arm over his eyes and relishing in the complete darkness, yawning a little before he lets himself relax into the mattress. Tubbo’s a warm presence beside him, calming enough for Tomym to remember he isn’t alone in the room. There’s a nice balance between the cold of the dark room and the warmth of the blanket and his best friend beside him.

“Tommy.”

“Mmm- yeah?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were awake,” Tubbo laughs when he hits him with his hand, groaning. Tommy shoves Tubbo away, towards the edge of the bed, until his best friend is grasping his arm with a laugh. “Tommy! Tommy no- I’m going to fall- Tommy!”

In seconds, there is a heap made of a white blanket and a boy on the floor. Tommy sits up (It’s dizzy, it’s so dizzying, but Tubbo is laughing and that’s enough to distract him) with his own wide smile, stretching his back and ignoring the rush of blood to his head. When the black waves lapse out of his vision and his limbs no longer feel like jelly, he watches Tubbo throw the blankets back on the bed and stand. 

They spend the rest of the morning in silence, with no tasks, and it’s weird having a moment of free-time when they’re sure there’s something to do at the camp just a few chunks away. Neither of them mention going back, as if this is their own little runaway spot for the moment, secluded from the panic of seeing their home in ashes and the grief that must sit over the camp. 

His best friend doesn’t say anything, but Tommy can tell this is the best sleep he’s gotten in days. 

Tubbo tells him the exact amount of days- Nine. Nine days since the festival. “I’ve been counting,” He declares to Tommy, while they’re eating their breakfast on the steps outside the farm. “It’s soothing, I think.”

“Numbers are dumb,” Tommy concludes. 

“I might’ve lost count,” Tubbo ignores his conclusion. “But I don’t think I have.”

Both of them conclude that it’s been nine days. They finish their breakfast in silence, with Tommy relishing in the fact his head is less sore than it’s been since the festival. He’s going to be so thankful to walk without asking for help after this. 

That same breakfast silence takes over most of their morning, with Tubbo mindlessly using resources to make something that Tommy physically cannot care less about. He’s perfectly content leaning back-to-back with his friend, feeling each movement Tubbo makes, closing his eyes and breathing steadily. Then, Tubbo has his attention again, and a jukebox by his feet. Tommy realises they’ve been sat there for hours, and this is confirmed by the pop of his joints as he stretches out. 

Tubbo darts up the stairs, leaving him staring at the Jukebox Tubbo made, in the quiet. His best friend returns with disks in his hands, a clearly-proud expression on his face. He slips in a disk- Mellohi, Tommy smiles at the familiar first notes- and says; “Do you wanna try dancing?”

“Tubbo what-” Tommy laughs, loud and echoing. “Tubbo what the hell? Dancing?”

“It could be good to get you moving!” Tubbo says. “And- And we have music, so why not?”

“It’s so stupid!” Tommy says, but he takes Tubbo’s hand anyway.

“No! It’s not!” Tubbo tugs him forward. “C’mon, please?”

As if he was saying no. 

Neither of them know how to dance. Tubbo’s shit at it. Tommy laughs as Tubbo trips, but they manage to correct themselves. Together, their feet guide them in a stupid half-waltz half-whatever-the-hell-they-want, bare feet padding on the stone of the ravine floor. The music echoes through their bones, bouncing back to make a room of noise that the two of them sit in the middle of. 

Laughter bubbles out of Tubbo when Tommy hits himself in the face trying to spin Tubbo. “Shut up,” He grumbles, their hands linked together again. Despite his tone, he’s smiling. Music swells as he spins Tubbo, smile widening as the boy giggles. He ignores the sounds of footsteps on the stairs as long as he can, letting himself revel in the way Tubbo tries his best to spin him. 

It’s complicated, but it happens, and then both of them are laughing. It’s better than the original music, Tommy thinks, the way their laughs echo and mix to create a song that sounds almost completely different to Mellohi. 

He only stops when the music dies down, and they’re both left exhausted and smiling like idiots. Tubbo takes the disc out, careful to lay it on top with the grace of an antique collector. It’s then that both of them spot Techno, who’s standing on the last step, trying not to laugh at them. 

It feels like a blur as they greet each other with stilted words and attempts to hide what they had been doing (as if it’s a crime for them to be children, as if they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t). They’re on the ground now, Techno sitting in front of them. “How’ve you two been managing?”

“We’re good,” Tubbo says, all happiness and smiles. Tommy remembers the softness of the smile he got this morning, the glazed eyes, all the expressions he’s seen on Tubbo’s face and decides that this forced happiness is his least favourite. “How are you?”

Techno hums a response. Tommy wonders if Tubbo hears it, but his best friend makes no sign either way. “”M gonna be up at the camp, if you two need me,” He says. “Checkin’ in on Wilbur. Came to see if you two wanted…”

Tommy doesn’t want, no thanks, but that’s selfish. Wilbur’s probably worried. “If I can make it up the stairs, sure,” He says, nonchalant. Tubbo grabs his hand. It’s a relief. “Otherwise, we’ll come when I can?”

It’s the most rational he’s felt since Wilbur yelled at him about bombs for the first time. Techno gives him a nod, and Tommy wants to believe there’s a knowing look in his brother’s eye. “I don’t mean now,” He clarifies. “But Wilbur’ll be happy to see you, Tommy. He’s… he’s not all there, but he’ll get better. He’s gettin’ better.”

Another twist of guilt to his gut. He should forgive and forget. LIke Tubbo. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be glad to see him, too,” Tommy feels the lie on his tongue like cotton. “Just can’t manage the stairs, probably. Gotta train to be the server’s best walker again.”

Techno nods again, standing. “Well, you’re set for food,” He comments, motioning to the farm. A moment of quiet, enough to let Tommy exhale. “‘N, uh… you don’t have to see Will yet, Tommy. He could do with a few days of quiet first.”

He leaves. Tommy and Tubbo listen to his footsteps, both letting out a breath when they hear Techno reach the top. “Are you okay?” Tubbo has his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, a grounding weight. “Tommy, you don’t-”

“I don’t really want to see Wilbur,” He admits, and there he goes again, telling Tubbo things he isn’t sure he wants to say. “I’m… I’m still scared.”

“What are you scared of?” 

It’s his best friend. He feels safe. But there’s a sickening gnawing in his stomach, guilt mixed with fear and anger, all wrapped up to be a lovely cocktail of feelings he doesn’t like. It’s not the hot, fiery anger, not the dry anger he normally feels, the one that fuels him to do things- it’s soggy, and melting, anger that does nothing but make him want to sob. 

He almost does. Tubbo’s hand is in his. He doesn’t. 

“What if WIlbur thinks it’s my fault?”

A dam breaks open, tears pouring from his eyes as Tubbo pulls him closer, their hands still together. “Hey, Tommy, it’s okay,” he says. “Wilbur won’t do that, I don’t think. And if he blames you, I’ll be there, and we can leave.”

“What if we can’t? What if Wilbur and Techno are the same? What if-” There’s a thousand scenarios all screaming to be the one he vocalises to Tubbo, who’s holding him so gently, so softly, so unlike the treatment he’s had, alone in this ravine despite the two people he considers family being only a few blocks from him. Tubbo shushes him, murmuring something about it being okay and them being together, but Tommy can’t fight the thoughts spilling from his mouth; “Tubbo- what if- what if I’m alone again? What if we get out there and it’s all the same, and Wilbur’s the same, and- and- and I’m so sorry, Tubbo-”

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t there, I tried-”

“I tried to be there, I promise, I promise I did-”

Tubbo is quiet. Tommy breaks into a thousand pieces at the sound of his own voice; “Did you call out for me?”

He feels Tubbo nod. Tears sting his eyes as he winces, letting out a choked, broken sob into Tubbo’s shoulder. He can’t tell the last time he was hugged so wholly by someone. Tubbo pours his whole being into hugs, nothing like Techno’s. He wraps his hands as far as he can around Tommy, and holds him, not gentle but not strong, not rough but not soft. Just… Tubbo. 

He isn’t sure how, but it breaks him a little more. 

“I wanted to come,” He says, and god, his voice sounds so soft, so fractured. “I tried, but I couldn’t, I… I just- Everything hurt, and-”

His head hurts exactly like it did. Aching pain settles into his bones, leaving him clutching Tubbo’s shirt with fists that hold empty strength. Please, he thinks, please understand. A hand is in his hair, another on his back. He comes back to himself, blurred and empty, taking deep breaths. “You’re alright,” Tubbo hums. “It’s okay, Tommy. We’re okay, and we’re together.”

“I know you tried, I tried too,” Tubbo says. He thinks he’d break a little more at those words if he weren’t already so wrecked right now. “The important thing is we’re together. Okay? And Wilbur will get better. You won’t be alone. You’ll have me.”

He hiccups. Tubbo continues; “And I’ll be there when you see Wilbur, too, okay? I’ll make sure I’m by your side.”

“Thanks, Big T,” Tommy takes a deep breath. “I… I just really want everything to be okay.”

“It will,” A smile. A genuine smile. “I promise.”

“Are you okay?” He asks, pulling back to see his friend's face- his thoughts are confirmed, there’s a smile on Tubbo’s face- and wiping his eyes with his palms. Together, they take a deep breath, content to stay wrapped together on the floor. 

“Yeah,” Tubbo says, after a minute too long. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He raises an eyebrow, and Tubbo deflates. “I just feel like, I mean, we lived through a war,” Brown eyes focus on Tommy’s shirt, head down. “We did a lot that normal sixteen year olds wouldn’t, you know? And. And I like being able to be stupid with you again. I like that a lot.”

“I just feel like I have to, to be grown up, for everyone else’s sake,” He says. Then; “I liked dancing.” 

Silence. “I did too.”

“That garden sounded nice.”

“Yeah. A garden would be pog.”

From the ravine floor, tangled together in a hug, the only place they can go is up. And they do. The next day, Tommy manages to walk the length of the ravine with Tubbo’s hand in his. He makes it up halfway up the stairs, towards the spiral staircase, and back down, all without too much dizziness. 

His head still pounds, but he can handle it himself. 

The day after, he makes it all the way up the stairs, without Tubbo’s help. Despite this, his best friend is always one step behind, if he needs it. When they reach the top, the bed calls for them, so they both sit down and gather berries left in the chest nearby. 

Wordlessly they make their way outside, sitting with their feet in the pond and berries laid on the ground between them. Neither of them talk about much, until Tommy crushes a berry between his fingers and drips his hand into the water, watching the red flush downstream. “Wilbur does that, too,” Tubbo comments, eyes still connected to the spot where Tommy’s hand emerges from the water. “He crushes berries in his palms.”

Tommy doesn’t respond. Tubbo continues; “I offered him some, when he first came,” Tubbo’s eyes looked glossed, as if he’s reliving it. “Everyone was yelling, and he looked so ghostly, when he asked me where you were and- and I didn’t know-”

A shaky breath. The sun begins to set. 

“I guess we were both lost,” Tubbo says. “I don’t know what will happen when Wilbur gets better. They had a meeting, I think, but I never found out what they were going to do. I didn’t know a lot of what we were doing. But I knew if you offered him berries, he… he would always crush the berries between his fingers and watch the juice stain his fingers.” 

He binks. They both do. 

It feels better. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

The silence between them says more than either of them can. Tommy pushes the berries away, over to the other side of Tubbo, resting his head on his best friend’s shoulder. “I think we should have a river,” Tommy begins. “In our garden.”

Tubbo puts a berry in his mouth and laughs. “I think that would be cool. We could have fish!”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, taking a berry from the pile and putting it in his mouth. They’re sweet, but the sunset is sweeter. Tubbo leans his head on top of Tommy’s. “We could have a cottage, too. Like. We could stay somewhere.”

Quietly; “Like running away?”

“Maybe,” Just a little louder than Tubbo. “Maybe something like that. Maybe our Garden could be near the Jungle base. We can fix that up once our garden is okay, and then we’d have a place to stay, and it’s not technically running away.”

“I’d like that a lot, actually.”

“I would too,” Tommy says. 

There are stars above them by the time they pull their feet from the water and stand, berry stalks discarded on the riverbed without another word. With interlocked hands and smiles on their faces, they walk back to Pogtopia, falling onto the same bed. “Tommy.”

“Yeah, Big T?”

“I think… I think you should visit Wilbur.”

“What?” Tommy pushes himself up, blinking, away from his best friend. 

“Not- not today, and maybe not tomorrow,” Tubbo assures him, brows furrowed as he reaches for Tommy’s hand again. “But… soon. It might help, you know? Both of you, I mean. He was asking about you and Techno, I- he’s clearly worried. I’m just, just suggesting, though.”  
“You can see him when you’re ready.”

Tommy breathes out, watching his hair react to the gush of air. “I… Yeah. I dunno, Big T,” He says. “If Techno comes back, I’ll go. If… If it’s up to me, I don’t know. It’s a pretty big deal, y’know? We could’ve-”

Died. He doesn’t say it aloud, but they both know it. Dying means loneliness. Means forgetting. Tommy feels Tubbo squeeze his hand, and takes a breath to steel the weird shaking in his body. “Tubbo, I wanna see him, but I … I’m scared.”

“Maybe seeing him can help that, though.” They shift so they’re laying down again, facing each other, before he speaks again. “He’s pretty much harmless, Tommy. It might help to see that, to know he isn’t going to do it again. It’s- Tommy, he’s wrecked. All he did was sit by the fire and walk with me when I couldn’t sleep.”

Another sigh. He groans. “I’m tired. We’ll talk about this when Techno visits.”

Speaking of the devil, Techno shows up the next day, just after the two boys have woken. They have an awkward few minutes of Techno standing in the doorway and both boys blinking back at him, hair messy and eyes glossed over with exhaustion, until Techno lets himself in and sits on the chest in the corner.

They talk, some small talk about how they’re doing, dancing around what really needs to be said, and it does Tommy’s head in. Just as Tubbo is in the middle of asking Techno how the weather’s been (even though they would have experienced the same weather), Tommy gives up trying to do this little dance; “I want to see Will.”

He agreed, didn’t he? That they’d talk about it. But he hadn’t been thinking when he opened his mouth, and now he’s sat there with both Techno and Tubbo staring at him, waiting for him to keep talking. Oh fuck. “I- I mean, obviously, I’m scared and all-” He glosses over Techno’s slight change in expression. “-But he’s Willbur, and… and if I have you and Tubbo with me, I should be fine, right?”

Right? 

Tubbo gives his hand a proud squeeze. God, he hates it when that little gap between their ages makes itself apparent and Tubbo feels like he’s older. Still, it makes Tubbo’s support Tommy feel warm, so he takes a deep breath and watches Techno’s expression. 

“Okay.” His brother shifts off the chest. “If you wanna see him, I’ll take you.”

“Like… right now?” 

“Sure,” Techno’s voice is three times as certain as Tommy feels. “I’ll be there, and you can bring Tubbo. There’s no harm in lettin’ you see him. If you don’t feel comfortable, you can just…” A shrug. “Tell me?”

Oh fuck, Tommy thinks. Oh god oh fuck. “Okay,” Is what he says instead. “Let’s go.”

Techno leaves them a few chunks from the camp, going to get Wilbur. The Forest around them implies privacy, but Tommy knows it’s an illusion. Just beyond the barrier of trees and bush there is a Camp, who will hear if they’re loud enough. 

He breathes out. Slowly. 

“Hey,” Tubbo’s hand on his shoulder, Tubbo’s warmth beside him, a familiar presence. “I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He knows that. He knows it, and that doesn’t stop the way he shivers desperately, fear bubbling in his throat. He hears footsteps and makes a final attempt to calm his heart, linking his fingers with Tubbo’s. 

A squeeze; We’re okay. A breath; I know. A conversation without words; not a single whisper as Tubbo steps away, their only link being their palms pressed together. 

Techno comes out of the bush first, taking his place a few paces away. With a few damp strands of hair indicating he just washed his face, hands covered in bandages, and feet that stop the minute he sees Tommy, Wilbur arrives. 

Wilbur. Alive. 

“Tommy,” His brother’s voice sounds so broken, so tired, so unlike what Tommy remembers their leader sounding like. Nothing but bare bones, shaking hands and broken thoughts. “Tommy, I’m- I’m so glad-“

He wants to stop hearing how weak Wilbur sounds. He’s not sure this is better than when Wilbur was loud and boisterous and convinced Tommy would betray him, because every inch of this hurts a thousand times more than being yelled at. 

Wilbur cries. He hesitates to step forward, and then again to come close enough to hug Tommy. Tommy let’s Tubbo’s hand slip out of his. They both hesitate, an inch away from hugging, and he’s so sick of the distance between him and Wilbur. His limbs won’t let him move. They meet each other’s eyes, and it’s the most present Tommy’s seen Wilbur be since they were thrown out- he’s getting better. They’re okay. 

Arms wrap around him, and without opening his mouth Wilbur says; I’m sorry. In that same silence, Tommy responds. Returning the hug, he says; I forgive you.


End file.
